


In the Name of GPI

by somnivagrantTraviatus



Category: Problem Sleuth (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Not Really Character Death, new names for everyone, stuttering: the fanfiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 21:47:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4116055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somnivagrantTraviatus/pseuds/somnivagrantTraviatus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Falling in love was easy. Figuring him out was harder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_We regret to inform you that the Jade Dragon is closed, effective March 16._

You read the sign again, hands wringing. "C-closed? But..."

You take a few steps to the side and try the door again. Locked.

"Oh, what am I to do?" You grab a lock of curly, honey brown hair and run your fingers over it, drawing comfort from the gentle tug at your scalp and the repetitive motion. "There's always the Golden Tiger, I suppose, but their teas are mostly black, and they always overbrew my whites..."

A gentle, but insistent, tap at your shoulder makes you pause, and you turn around, fingers still clutching your hair. "Um, I'm sorry, this is t-terribly rude of me," the man begins, hands clutching at what looks like a bowler hat (and you wonder at that, because who wears a bowler hat with an apron?). "B-but I couldn't help but notice that, um, you were reading the sign. The Dragon makes good tea, but they're closed now, s-so you need to find somewhere else. Right?"

You stare at him, confused. He stares back. "Y-yes, um, that's- ah, that was exactly what- that is, I was thinking of the Golden Tiger," you haltingly explain.

"Oh, no, don't do that!" The man shudders, the motion racking his tall, thin frame. "They'd like to get m-more customers, but their prices are really way too high, and their tea isn't all that good anyway. Not worth it," he pronounces with a wild shake of his head. "I was just going to say, um, I- I work in a coffee shop."

You stare at him again. It's a losing battle not to get distracted by his baby-blue eyes, so you don't bother to try not to and just get lost in them for a while. He doesn't seem to notice. 

You come back to yourself with a start, realizing with a mental cringe that you've left the conversation hanging. "I'm sorry, b-but I- I- I don't like coffee."

He giggles. You absentmindedly take note of the way his nose crinkles. "N-no, that wasn't what I meant! I don't like coffee either," he confesses, grinning madly. "Too bitter, not as good smelling. Blech." He pulls a face. "But I need the m-money. For rent. I'm good at tea, though."

"Oh!" You flush, ashamed at your earlier assumption. "W-What kinds?"

"All different kinds," the man replies, with a small grin you find yourself reciprocating. "I like the p-paler ones best, though. Chamomile is my favorite."

"That sounds d-delightful," you sigh, dropping your hand from your head to clasp over your chest. 

His grin grows, and he holds out a lanky arm at an awkward angle. "W-Would you like to come to the shop and have some tea with me?"

You're reaching to take it when a thought occurs to you, and you pull back, frowning. "I'm sorry. I-I don't even know your name."

"Oh!" His face crumples instantly, his arm collapsing to rest woodenly at his side. "S-Sorry. That was incredibly rude of me. My name is, ah, Peri. P-Peri Illan."

You smile and reach out to grab his arm again, and are rewarded with a shy grin. "It's n-nice to meet you, Peri. I'm Nannette Baum."

\---

You become a frequent visitor in the coffee shop where Peri works, and when the shop is sufficiently empty or when his shift is nearly over, you take tea together. It's always perfectly brewed, and your conversations, while halting, are friendly. He tells you about his friends - Anders 'Ace' Dixon, a surly cop with a kid who Peri sometimes babysits, and 'Pax' Salvator, a bartender, nicknamed for his uncanny ability to stop nearly any fight in his bar before it starts with a politely-worded suggestion and a smile - and you tell him about yours - Holly Dominick, a spitfire cosmetologist with dreams of becoming a famous singer, and Beannon Queen, a model with a knack for appearing and disappearing when it's least expected. Sometimes you talk about your jobs. Sometimes you talk about the weather. Sometimes you talk about the futility of human accomplishment and the wonders of the universe, and sometimes you talk about nothing at all.

You've realized by your third visit to his shop that you're falling in love with him.

He can barely speak a full sentence without his stutter making an appearance, and his hands are wracked with tremors, but when he's holding a cup of tea, there's never so much as a ripple across the surface of the liquid. He's the only person you've ever met who can go from debating whether or not Shrek was a cinematic masterpiece to discussing the latest scientific research papers, to trying to work out how to set Pax and Holly up, to squealing over kittens. You wouldn't say he's handsome, not the ruggedly attractive kind of handsome that Holly's always mooning over, but his eyes, distracted and disquietingly focused by turns, are the most alluring things you've ever seen. It doesn't hurt that he's so polite, either, although the fact that he refuses to call you anything other than Ms. Baum is slightly irritating.

And to be honest (not that you've noticed, of course), his backside is very nice.

\---

He tells you over your sixth pot of tea together that the Jade Dragon should be reopening sometime during the next month.

"R-really?" Noticing that your hand is starting to tremble, you gently set the cup down on its saucer. "That's great news! D-Did anyone ever find out why they closed in the first place?"

His eyes slide sideways. "I- I heard there was something the owner had to take care of. H-His nephew was s-sick, t-terribly sick." He turns his cup around once, twice, lifts it, hesitates. Puts it down again. "He had to leave t-to take c-c-care of him. But he should be feeling better soon."

You smile and take a little sip of tea. "I'm glad."

The two of you sit in silence for a while, the gentle ticks and tocks from the shop's clock the only sounds in the room.

"I- I should probably g-get g-g-going," Peri finally stammers, standing up and tangling with the long, green overcoat on the back of his chair, his tea nearly untouched. "School st-starts at nine tomorrow, and I've s-still got homework."

You stand and lay a gentle hand on his shoulder. "P-Peri?"

He stops, coat half on, and turns to look at you, eyes wide and panicked.

"I'll still come here. When the Dragon is open again, I mean. If that's alright."

His blue eyes blink, even wider than they were before, for a mere split second. Then his face crinkles up into a joyful smile. "O-okay. I- I'd like that, Ms. Baum."

\---

You realize that, not only does Peri have an amazingly accurate memory, but that he seems to know things before they happen. Sometimes he'll have a pot of tea brewed and ready for you before you come in, even when you haven't set a visit up before hand. On several occasions, he had been ready and waiting to brace you when you nearly tripped over your own feet. And on one memorable occasion, he had just told you he was leaving for the Laurel Key, Pax's bar, when the phone rang. By the time you answered it, Peri was already out the door, leaving you to answer. It was from Pax, who informed you that Ace had had a little too much drink, and asked if Peri could pick him up. You told him he was already on his way. The bartender had accepted that easily and made a crack about wondering why he even bothered calling. You're not sure you understood it right. Does that kind of thing happen often enough to joke about?

So you ask Peri. But whenever the topic of how he knows these things comes up, he becomes more anxious than usual. His tremors get worse, he stutters more, his beautiful eyes dart uneasily from side to side. He makes a clear bid to change the topic. You let him, without a fight. Answers aren't worth making him this uncomfortable.

\---

Walking while reading is a bad habit you both share. You've gotten around fine with it, learned how to listen for cars at each intersection so you don't have to look up, learned to watch the ground in front of your feet over the top of your book so you don't run into anyone, but your mother always said that it would be reading while walking that would do you in.

You'll have to see if you can find her and tell her she was right.

It had been about dragons, and a princess, and the princess ran away to work for the dragon because palace life was boring. You had just reached the part where the princess found a living prince made of stone when you heard Peri calling. It wasn't the fact that he had called you that pulled your nose from the book. It was what he had said.

"N-N-N-N-N-Nanette!"

You paused, blindsided. A part of you recorded the fear in his voice, the extra stammers, the urgency, but most of your brainpower was taken by processing the fact that he finally said your first name.

Then you had taken in the arm he had stretched out to you, the tears already streaming down his face, and the hot roar of the truck that had come up right behind you.

\---

You look down at yourself. At your toes. Through your toes. At yourself.

You pinch an arm, hard, and feel a faint echo of complaint from what used to be your skin.

"O-oh my," you say, and you're not sure why. A tide of fear rolls through your mind. What are you going to do? What will happen to you? What will Holly and Bee do? You raise a hand to your mouth and begin gnawing on your fingernails.

A skeletal hand hovers in your field of vision. Your nervous frenzy prevents you from seeing it, so it settles gently on your ghostly wrist and pulls it away from your ghostly teeth.

You look up and into empty eye sockets in a black cowl. To your tribute, you don't scream.

"O-o-o-oh."

Death bobs his head at you. "S-Sorry if I startled you. I- I know I can b-be a little d-d-d-disconcerting."

"N-no, n-not at all," you stammer in reply, deciding to bypass the introductions. "I- I just-" You feel a cold line roll down your cheek, which is soon joined by many others, and you realize that you're crying.

Death hugs you close. That should be cause for alarm, but you collapse into tears, letting him hold you up.

After a while (it could have been a few minutes, it could have been an eternity), you hug him back and stand on your own again, brushing off your tears. "I- I'm sorry about your robe."

"I-It's okay." He awkwardly pats your arms and stands back. "It- That h-happens a lot."

You nod and wipe off the last of your tears with one arm.

Although he doesn't have lips, Death nonetheless gives an impression of a small smile. "I-If you're composed, M-Ms. Baum, I'm s-supposed to escort you somewhere now. If it were up to me, I'd ask if you'd like some t-t-tea, or m-maybe a board game, b-b-but this time, it's not my decision."

"Oh." You brush off your dress and step closer to him. "Um, alright. I'm ready, I s-suppose."

You grip onto his offered elbow and are lead away from your body.

\---

Peri throws open the door of the Laurel Key, and with one look, Pax sets down the glass he's shining and closes and locks the door behind him.

"What's up?"

"She's dead," Peri grinds out, striding straight to the bar. His nimble fingers ghost across the books on the bookshelf and pulls out one, opens it, removes the bottle nestled inside its hollow cover, and begins drinking straight from it with a ferocity Peter has never seen from him before. "I have t-to talk with him."

Pax nods. "I'll call Ace, 'n set up the forts."

\---

You look up. And up, and up.

Platforms of lotus flowers spiral on as far as your eyes can see. Petals are drifting everywhere, and you reach out to catch one. Before you can close your fingers, there's one in your palm.

The petal is light pink, not white like you first assumed, but it's easy to see why you made the mistake. It's covered in tiny white dots that, on closer examination, appear to be moving.

"GPI," you breathe, lost in the swirling fractals.

"Yes, that's me."

You spin around, hand clapped over your mouth in surprise.

Peri smiles at you and hands you a lotus.

No, you realize, clutching the lotus like a last lifeline, this isn't Peri. At least, not the one you know. He has three eyes, not the usual two, and instead of being gently blue, his eyes are lighter, almost white. Just like the lotus petals, they have galaxies swirling in them.

He stands straighter, like he's more self-assured, and you know, despite the fact that he's only said three words to you, that he doesn't stutter.

Also, now that you think about it, the four arms should have been a giveaway.

He nods, satisfied with whatever it is he sees. "Did you ever wonder what the letters stand for? GPI?"

You shake your head, mute, not trusting yourself to speak.

"What would you say if I told you they stand for Godhead Peri Illan?"

"I would say that's s-something I should have told her," Peri snaps from just behind your right shoulder.

You turn around slowly.

...You're not sure what you're expecting, but a short blond man, an even shorter, stocky brunet, and a weasel were definitely not it.

You blink at them, frowning, and the blond gives you a sheepish smile and a wave. You wave back, because it would be rude not to, and turn around again to find that both GPI and Peri are gazing at you with adoration. With some difficulty, you resist the urge to burst into either laughter or tears.

Peri - the real Peri, the one you fell in love with - takes your hands and begins to speak, rubbing gentle circles around each bone as if to reassure himself that they're still there. You don't doubt he could name every one of them. "I'm s-sorry. I should have told you. B-b-but I couldn't find the r-right time. It's hard to explain t-to someone you- to someone that you're k-kind of a god."

"It's okay," you tell him, surprised to realize that's the truth. "I just- C-can someone explain what's going on?"

Peri blinks at you, wordless, and the Godhead spreads his hands. "Ms. Baum, you're in what's called the Imaginary Realm. Here, the rules that make up reality are different. It could have been a year ago or three years from now that everything happened, or it could be happening right now, as we speak." He brushes an invisible speck of dust off his coat - a lighter, mintier green, compared to Peri's familiar overcoat, and also covered in subtle spiral patterns. "Either way, the events are the same. No matter the universe, I always have a surplus of imagination. In the Imaginary Realm, this means that I always have a surplus of power. Also, alcohol fuels imagination. I have never gotten drunk easily, because my Imagination stat is so high that most drinks do nothing, but one night, I was given the ultimate alcoholic beverage."

"I-it was, um, candy corn liquor?" Peri picks up the line of conversation before you even realize that the Godhead is finished, for the moment. "It k-kind of- my I-imagination went into overdrive. I could do anything, a-anything I could think of. Plus, I was really, really drunk. So I b-became a god."

You realize that your mouth is hanging slack-jawed and close it. "Okay."

"T-the thing was, before that, I split myself into eight p-parts. One of me woke up with a k-killer hangover. A few of them d-d-d-died. One of them became the Godhead. And one of them split h-himself into two parts. And then one of those split himself into t-two p-p-parts. It's all kind of fuzzy."

"S-so how many of you are there?"

The Godhead steps in. "Every time one of us split into two, one would go into the past, and the other would go into the future. Eventually, there were enough of us to become the very fabric of reality, from since time began to when it will, eventually, stop."

Your knees wobble, but Peri's hands are there to catch you before you fall down. "Okay."

The blond walks up behind you and puts a hand on Peri's shoulder. (This requires some stretching.) "If we're all done with th' backstory here, I'd like to know what we're doin'."

"Ordinarily, I'd have an answer for you," the Godhead replies. "But this is complicated. She is dead. I can't just let her walk out of Death's door."

"Y'let me do it!" The short man with the curly, dark brown hair steps up next to you, fists curled at his sides. "What's th'problem?"

"That was a special case," GPI answers, unflapped by his display. "This is also a special case. But she cannot leave this realm alive."

"T-Then what can we do?" Peri sets you down gently on a lotus petal and steps forward. "I can't j-just leave her here."

His godly counterpart shrugs with all four shoulders, and that's a sight you'll never forget. "We have two choices. The hard way is to have her stay dead, but let her back into the physical world, permitting only occasional interference." He turns to you. "You would basically become a ghost."

You attempt to stand on shaky legs. Peri helps you to your feet. "A-and the, the other choice? The easy one?"

"Not to leave." The Godhead holds up his right hands, anticipating Peri's response. "She wouldn't stay with Death, but with me. I would give her some of my power, and we could fondly regard the universe together."

The blond man keeps darting amused glances between you and the two Peris. "You mean, like, she'd become your consort or something?"

"Something like that."

"I-I-I- I don't-" Peri stammers, blushing redder than rooibos. He turns to you, with his beautiful blue eyes and his ridiculous bowler hat. "N-Nan?"

You're probably blushing, too, but you can feel your smile through the heat and that's all that matters. You turn to the Godhead, with a quick flick of your eyes over to Peri and back again. "Was that a p-proposal?"

He grins back at you. "Yes."

"Then I accept." 

You turn to Peri and take his hand. He stares blankly at you, but you just smile.

He looks down at your hands, and realization dawns on his face. "R-R-Really? You'll c-come back with me?"

"More than that," you tell him. "I-if you'll let me, I mean."

He's staring blankly at you still, so GPI sighs and makes a gesture. Suddenly, you're both wearing identical Lifesaver rings. You giggle quietly at the irony. "I now pronounce you engaged," he says. "Come see me again when you're ready for the full ceremony."

You run a finger over it, bemused, and look over at your new fiance. He's redder than you thought was even possible for such a pale man, and he's pulled his bowler hat over his face to hide the worst of his flush.

The two men (you're guessing they're Pax and Ace) are staring at you, Ace in bemusement, Pax in happy pride. The weasel is flipping the heck out. Deciding to give them all a show, you lean over and kiss him on the cheek.

He pulls the hat farther down over his face and continues stammering unintelligibly. You give him the hug you've been fantasizing about giving him since you two started taking tea together, and nod at GPI from over his head. You're ready to be back in the Real World. You may be dead, but that doesn't mean you can't spend a life together.


	2. Epilogue 1: HD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nanette breaks the news to Holly.

You blow your nose before answering the ringing phone. "Holly Dominick," you answer, dabbing ineffectually at the tears, black from mascara, that pool at the corners of your eyes. "This better not be a solicitor or something. My best friend just died, and I'm not in the mood for having stuff sold to me."

There's a quiet chuckle on the other end of the line. "I'm sorry, b-but, well, about that..."

You take the phone off your ear and stare at it incredulously, then narrow your eyes and raise it to your mouth again. "Look, I know you think this is funny, but I promise you, I'm not amused," you growl. "What kind of fucked up person thinks pretending to be some girl's dead best friend calling from beyond the grave is funny?"

"N-No, no, that's not it at all! I promise, it's really me!"

"Prove it."

"Um..." There's a pause, and then the voice begins speaking again in a flurry of barely understandable words. "Your locker combination in high school was 13-25-30. Your favorite singer is either Frank Sinatra or Aretha Franklin; you've never been able to decide which one. You secretly love True Blood and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and have a giant crush on Angel. When you become a singer, your stage name is going to be Holly Domino. Y-your hair - it's actually blonde, but you dye it red because it makes you stand out more. When you get upset, you like to read trashy romance novels."

You frown, staring at the caller ID number flashing on your TV over a Buffy rerun. It's not hers. But that voice definitely is; you'd know it anywhere, and no one else knows about your Buffy addiction besides Nan and Bee.

On the other hand, maybe your apartment is bugged or something and this creep is just really good at disguising their voice. 

"Anyone could know that," you retort. "Give me something no one else could know but you an' me."

The person-who-can't-possibly-be-Nan sighs. "Do you remember the time we visited the kids at that mansion Bee b-b-babysits at? When Itchy heard she and I had been d-dating and pushed us into each other every chance he got? And Benedict and Biscuits wanted to bake a c-cake, but they didn't use a cookbook, and we had to clean up the mess by ourselves because Bee had to take care of D-dimion, and the kids just watched us clean the whole k-kitchen? B-by ourselves?"

You laugh without amusement. Yeah, that had been quite the day. Freakin' kids. You're sure Caddoc set up the whole thing with the cake in order to get back at Nan after Itchy told him she was dating Bee. His little crush on his babysitter was adorable at long range, but he was probably the only one who could get the other fourteen kids to do anything, and that made him dangerous if he didn't like you. And he definitely hadn't liked Nan.

"Okay," you say, over all the thoughts in your head that are screaming that this is impossible, you're going to wake up and this will all have been a dream, it'll hurt even more to have lost her if you believe she's back now. But you've never been the most rational girl. What you want, you get, and you want your best friend back. "Okay. I believe you, I think. Don't make me regret this, y'hear?"

Nan laughs, the sound as real as it's ever been, and you close your eyes and smile. "So if you're not dead, what happened?"

"Oh, but I am dead," she replies, sounding surprised and apologetic all at once. "K-kind of. But my fiancé interfered for me, so I'm a g-g-ghost now. He gave me a ghost phone so I could call you. I still haven't figured out how to, um, touch real things yet. Being insubstantial is d-difficult!"

You sink into your couch and massage your temples. "Tell me everything."


	3. Epilogue 2: PI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all gets wrapped up.

The three of you - Team Sleuth, you like to call yourselves, a joke based off of how many ridiculous puzzles you've solved together - are at the Laurel Key again for the first time since Nanette died. This time, she's here too, and you'd be worried about the way Pax is flirting with her if you didn't already know that he's agreed to go on a blind date with her friend Holly.

Also, there's the matter of what you've taken to carrying around in your pocket, but that's for when you can find a suitably appropriate moment.

Pax says something to her, you can't quite hear what, and she stops laughing and becomes more serious. You step a little closer to them so as to better hear their conversation.

"T-that reminds me. Before, when I was d-d-d-dead and you all came to get me, why was there a weasel?"

Pax laughs. "Oh, him? He's my bodyguard. Since I did the Weasel King a favor, he doesn't like me wandering 'round the Imaginary Realm by m'self."

"Th-the Weasel King?"

"Yep." Pax grins disquietingly at her, and you resist the urge to glare at him. That wouldn't be polite. "Not that he does much. I mean, 'm the Chosen Arbiter, and a vampire, to boot. The weasel just kind of flips the fuck out a lot. Not exactly th'most helpful fella, but it doesn't cost me anything to let him tag along, so I haven't said anything."

"A v-v-v-vampire?"

"Uh huh." He grins again, this time wide enough that she can see the supernaturally sharp point of his canines.

"Oh!" She leans closer to him and studies his teeth, then leans back with a faint smile. "Oh my. Holly will be p-pleased."

You smile too, glad to see she's taking it so well. "S-she likes v-v-vampires?"

"Oh, yes," Nannette nods. "She's crazy about them. She's had a c-crush on Angel from Buffy since he first showed up."

"She's a Buffy fan?" You're pleased to pick up on a slight quiver in Pax's voice. Serves him right.

"Oh, yes," Nan repeats, grinning brightly. "Oh! But, ah - I've b-been meaning to ask. If Pax is just a nickname, t-then what’s your real name?"

Some of your teammate's insufferable smugness returns at that. "It's Prydwen. Means 'handsome' in Welsh."

You lean over and whisper, "It used to be Peter, b-but he changed it himself. After he b-became a vampire."

She giggles and gives you a ghost of a fluttery kiss on the cheek. You don't even bother to hide the goofy grin on your face.

Ace bellies up to the bar and holds up his glass. Pax darts off with vampire-enhanced speed to refill it for him, evidently relieved to have an excuse to get some air.

In the meantime, Nan taps the stocky man on the shoulder. "Mr. Ace? Y-you said something I was w-wondering about, too. When GPI was talking about h-how he couldn't let me back alive?"

He grunts. "Yeah."

"W-what was that about?"

Pax returns with his drink, and Ace takes a gulp of it before speaking again. "I was dead. Now I'm not."

"Oh." She turns to you, eyes wide, and you smile at her. Information is one of the few things you can give her, and you're glad of the opportunity.

"It shouldn't have happened, b-but it did. He was chasing a s-suspect when the man p-pulled a gun. D-death gave him our ap-pologies, but he p-punched him in the face and left anyway."

"Oh! H-how interesting." She turns to watch Ace nurse his beer, emerald eyes narrowed in concentration like they always do when she's contemplating something. "So, you're a z-zombie?"

He drains the glass, then grunts. "Y'could say that."

Nan hums, a beautiful, clear note despite her lack of body. "S-so you three are a vampire, a zombie, and a god?"

You shake your head, objecting to that. "N-no! No. He and I- we're d-different people. Different mes."

"So you're human?"

You blink and contemplate that for a while. "F-Frankenstein's monster."

She looks at you. Not rushing, not impatient, just curious, waiting for you to get your thoughts in order. You love her for that.

"T-there are so many different v-versions of me running around," you finally explain. "Sometimes I can't remember which one I am. I'm b-bits and p-p-pieces of myself, all stitched together."

She mulls that over for a while, then nods. "Alright. So, a v-vampire, a zombie, Frankenstein's monster, and a ghost."

You sit up with a jolt and fumble in your pocket, eventually pulling out the package you slaved over for weeks. This is it, your big shot! "Um, ac-actually, I w-was kind of hoping that, um, you'd b-be the B-b-b-bride of Frankenstein?"

Nobody says anything for several minutes while you struggle with the package, progressively turning more and more red. Finally, you pull out the box inside and open it so she can see what's in that.

It's a butterscotch, carved painstakingly into a ring.

You're dimly aware of Pax cracking up in the background, but that doesn't matter. Nan's hands are clapped over her mouth, and she's floating slowly off the ground.

You awkwardly get down on one knee and hold the box up to her. "H-here. You sh-should be able to put it on."

She's somewhere in the vicinity of the ceiling now, and still not saying anything.

"Well, c'mon, don't leave th'man hanging!" Pax says loudly. "Go on, now!"

She comes back to herself with a jolt and sinks back to the floor, wrapping her arms around you as soon as she's at an appropriate height. Her arms are almost solid around your chest. And Nannette Baum, the only girl who's seen all of you and still likes the Frankenstein's monster of a man the best, says, "Yes."


End file.
